Main Character: Ezra
Universe: Alternate ATF Universe — Ezra written with his Southern accent again.
Rating: PG17
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. I will make no money off of this story.
Comments: My take on what Ez's Dad was like. A little on the dark side, involves the death of children, but no graphic details. Also, I failed to thank those that came before me. Thanks.
It was over.
The room was overrun with police, radios blaring. Outside there was the wailing of sirens as more pulled into the vacant lot adjoining the building where the room was.
He did not see them. He did not hear them.
Paramedics were called. The ambulance pulled in and they rushed the room as well. They saw him with two police officers hovering over him as he sat quietly in a chair. Handcuffs were dangling open on the rungs of the back and legs. They could see red marks on his wrists where the cuffs had rubbed the skin raw.
"Can you hear me?" asked one of the medics. He touched the man in the chair gently on the arm and then slid his hand to the wrist to take his pulse. It was steady, but slow as it thudded heavily. The medic looked in his eyes, trying to capture his attention. The green eyed gaze was steady and far away, looking at everything and nothing.
The medic murmured over his shoulder to his partner and after a quick body check for blood, wounds and bone breaks, a blanket was wrapped around him. An oxygen mask was put over his nose and mouth. It stayed in place, much to the surprise of the medics.
Oh, they knew him. His medical escapades were legendary among the medics in the city. And his hospital stays were the stuff of big box office movies. It was fairly entertaining as long as you weren't the one having to deal with him personally. Sure, he was a nice enough guy as long as you didn't have him strapped down to a back board or tubed up in a hospital room. They all agreed with that. And watch out for his mouth if he was alert. Boy, he could tear you a new one with just his mouth.
The medic turned to the police officers that hovered. "You call his team leader yet?"
The police officers looked momentarily confused. "What team leader?"
Both medics paled. "His team leader. With the ATF." Seeing blank looks, they both sighed. The medics had gotten the call almost thirty minutes ago. They had gotten caught in heavy traffic. So that meant that the police officers had been on the scene at least forty-five minutes or so. With no call to the ATF.
They were all so dead.
The paramedics quickly got the man on the gurney and started wheeling him away to the ambulance. They wanted out of here before the news hit the fan. One paramedic threw over his shoulder, "You better call the Federal building and let Chris Larabee know that you have one of his agents and let him know he's going to the hospital."
Then the cops paled. "Ch-hris Ll-larabee?" the older one sputtered. "He's one of his agents?"
There was no answer as the paramedics reached the ambulance and lit out of the lot like Satan himself was on their back bumper.
The cops also lit out. Directly to their lieutenant who was on the scene. Let him deal with the notification and the ensuing ass chewing.
All hell was about to break loose. The paramedics had come and gone. The situation had been explained to the doctors and nurses in the emergency room. The whole hospital went on immediate alert. Hell hath no fury like Chris Larabee when he was not informed of one of his agents' injuries.
The automatic doors swished open and the nurses fell silent. He was here at last.
The dark wraith with blond hair stalked to the information desk. Behind him were five others, and all looked pissed as hell.
The nurse didn't even wait for the question. "He's being examined now, Mr. Larabee. The doctor will be out shortly to speak to you. Please wait in the-" She cut herself off as the men turned away abruptly and strode to the waiting area. Others in the waiting room quickly moved away from the aura of darkness the wrapped itself around the six men.
The doctor peeked out of the doors and cased the waiting room before pushing the doors open. The nurse gave him a heads up and raised a shoulder to show the ones he was looking for. He shuddered briefly and then tried to stride confidently up to the six men.
"Mr. Larabee?"
He shuddered again as ice blue eyes raised to bore through him. The man in black rose from his chair like a vengeance angel. The other remained seated, but ready.
"I've examined him, Mr. Larabee, and he's fine physically. No wounds, no blood. Just some rawness around his wrists from his restrains from the scene."
"Physically fine?"
The doctor hesitated with the answer. "Yes, physically fine. Mentally is a question. He has yet to answer any of our questions. I can't even get him to make eye contact with me."
"And?"
The doctor ran a hand over his short hair. "Emotional trauma. He's almost catatonic. Or maybe more like an autistic child. He's alive, he's functioning, but it's like he doesn't see us or hear us."
Quiet slammed down in the room. The other five men got to their feet.
"Can we see him?"
The doctor did not hesitate this time. "Sure. Come on."
The doctor led the six men down a long corridor. After a brief ride in the elevator, they come out to a floor of the hospital that they had never been on before. It was a calm blue with white floors and ceilings. The walls had a floral pattern.
"This is the psych ward," commented Nathan Jackson. The African-American ex-medic looked perturbed. His large brown/black eyes sweeping the hall.
"Ah, yes. They are better to handle this."
"He ain't crazy," said JD Dunne flatly as he flipped his longish black hair behind his pink ear. He looked outraged to be on this floor.
"No, not crazy. But he is still a little disturbed. He needs some help."
They continued down the hall. Nurses were scuttling by on urgent missions. A few patients in regular clothing hung around the main nurses' station. Cleaning carts lined the hallways.
The doctor stopped them at a private room. The door number was 717.
The doctor led them in.
On the bed was the missing agent. His back was to them and he was sitting on the side of the bed with his legs swinging over the floor. He was facing the window and they could see the deep blue sky and fluffy clouds that raced by.
"Ezra?" The dark leader stepped forward with the others close at his heals. The doctor was pushed to the back of the bunch. He knew where he was not wanted.
"Mr. Larabee, I only ask that you don't take him from this room. You can talk to him all you want, but don't take him. He needs to be here. Let the nurses know if you need anything."
Larabee only nodded and the doctor shut the door as he left.
Larabee was angry, furious. And scared as hell.
The others were no better.
JD was sent to the nurses station with Buck Wilmington for more chairs. The room only had two.
By the time the chair had arrived, Larabee was already seated by the head of the bed in the first chair, Vin Tanner in the second. Josiah Sanchez was on the bed beside the oblivious agent.
The others quickly grabbed chairs and seated themselves around the bed facing Ezra Standish.
"Ezra? What happened? Are you all right?" asked Josiah as he quietly touched the Southerner's arm. There was no response other than a blinking of the eyes and steady breathing. Sanchez waived a hand in front of Ezra's eyes. Nothing.
"Nathan?"
Nathan Jackson got up from his chair and carefully looked Ezra over and then shrugged his shoulders. "He looks fine."
"He's not acting fine," said Larabee sharply.
"Well, if it's emotional trauma, he's not going to suddenly leap up and do a jig."
Larabee silently fumed. What the hell was going on? Ezra had been assigned a case six months ago. The work had been steady and had payed off. The undercover work that Ezra had put in was exceptional. The meeting between the ATF agents and Marco Depaula had gone down without a hitch. Depaula was in jail waiting for his trial. Ezra was the star witness. The whole case may have to be scrapped now if Ezra was out of the picture.
Larabee remembered back four days ago. The beginning of this new mess his agent was in now. The team was in the office, everything seemed normal. It had been a typical Tuesday. Chris was in his office. Vin Tanner was at his desk with a candy bar in one hand and typing with the other. JD Dunne had on his earphones listening to some new alternative band. Josiah Sanchez and Nathan Jackson were at the copy machine talking in low tones about what it would be like to vacation in Hawaii. Buck Wilmington was on the phone with one of his current girlfriends, Lila.
The only one not sharing the typical Tuesday morning was Ezra Standish. But, no worry. He was usually late to the office. Especially after a long stint undercover. He usually needed to catch up on his sleep and Chris allowed him a little give and take if he made up his missed time in the afternoon.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon before they realized that something was wrong. Vin Tanner was the one to bring it up to Chris. After all, Ezra was his desk mate. Where the hell was he? And why wasn't he here working like a slob like the rest of them.
A posse was sent out to look for the Southern charmer. His place was checked out first. The only thing out of place was a copy of poems by Edgar Allan Poe laying on the carpet by the sofa. It was laying open to a poem called Dream-Land.
There was nothing else.
Ezra's car was not in the driveway or his garage. His keys were gone. His briefcase was gone. The shower was damp and the bed was made. An almost full pot of coffee sat in the coffee machine.
But no sign of Ezra himself.
And that was it for four days. No word. No ransom. No hostage demands. Nothing.
The team had been helpless to find him. And Chris Larabee had stewed until he was at the breaking point. He drove his team. He pissed off his boss and almost wrecked his truck due to lack of sleep.
If only Ezra could have seen him. It would have shocked the Southerner to see his cold boss so wracked with worry for him. Deep feelings were something they never discussed between each other. And their relationship was rocky due to Larabee's temper and Standish's mouth. Each could set the other off with little or no trouble.
The team wasn't surprised. They knew their leader was very protective of them all. He had deep friendships with Buck and Vin. He had great admiration and respect for Nathan and Josiah. He had a big brother protectiveness toward JD.
And for Ezra he had the consideration that one would have for a severely wounded wild animal that was struggling to protect itself. Even from those he might think of as friends. With him you had to be strong, a little demanding. And you never turned your back on him. Ezra would take that the wrong way.
Larabee was startled from his musings as Ezra casually slipped from the bed and turned from the window. Without looking at the members of his team he wove through the chairs to the door of the room.
"Chris?" asked Vin. "The doctor said not to let him out."
"I don't give a flying shit what the doctor said. If he wants out, he's going out."
By the time Ezra had reached the nurses station the doctor that had been assigned to him was alerted to the situation. He raced down the hallway after them.
"Mr. Larabee! Mr. Larabee! He's not to leave this ward."
"Nathan, Josiah, stay with Ezra," said Chris and then he turned to the doctor. The remaining team members turned as well. "If Ezra wants to go out of this ward, then he will."
"He's in no condition-"
Chris cut him off. "He's physically fine. That's what the doctor in emergency said. He also said that he's functioning. That's good enough for me."
"But, he's not communicating or responding-"
"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you asshole doctors," put in Vin Tanner. He himself didn't like doctors, or hospitals for that matter. He was only second to Ezra in his medical history of hospital escapes and ravaging of the medical staff.
"Vin," sighed Chris.
"Well, you know it's true. He doesn't like doctors. Maybe we can get him to talk if he wasn't in here."
"Now, wait a minute," said the doctor with an edge to his voice. "I can and will get him committed and placed under our care legally-"
"And we'll get a judge on you so fast your budget will fall out of your pocket," growled Larabee. "Our boss will have no trouble backing us up."
"Okay, okay. How about this? We let him go where he wants -- on the hospital grounds -- as long as he has an escort. But he sleeps in the ward at night. And you have to get him to his appointments with me and the medication nurse."
Chris hesitated. "Is medication necessary?"
The doctor's eyes hardened. "Absolutely. That's it. Agree or I'll have security throw you out."
Buck and JD snickered in the back of the group. Hospital security throw Team 7 out?
Chris' eyes flashed. The doctor has a sinking feeling that he might soon need the care of his fellow doctors in emergency.
"For now."
And then Chris Larabee and his team were gone. The doctor sighed in relief.
Ezra, meanwhile, had traveled out of the building and onto the green lawn of the hospital grounds. Josiah and Nathan were in close step with the smaller agent.
He stopped momentarily and looked back up at the face of the hospital building and then back out at the landscape. Nearby was the object that he had seen out of his room window. A large tree with out swept branches and a thick covering of leaves. Without hesitation he stepped forward and climbed up onto the wrap around bench at the base of the tree. Before Josiah or Nathan could react, he quickly bent his knees and jumped up to catch the nearest branch. He swung out of sight in a second.
"Dammit!" swore Nathan as he rushed forward and looked up into the tree.
Josiah chuckled. "It looks like he's part squirrel. Never knew he could climb trees." The big profiler of Team 7 stood beside Nathan and tried to pick out the agent amongst the leaves. "There he is. Up near that big forked branch."
Nathan gasped. "That's a good ways up. If he falls, he might hurt himself."
Josiah was about the reply when he heard his name called. He turned to see Larabee and the rest of the team at the door of the hospital. "Over here!"
The team hustled up to the tree.
"Where's Ezra," asked JD with puzzled brown eyes.
Josiah only pointed up.
Buck, JD, Vin and Chris all turned their eyes upward.
"Son of a Bitch!" bust out Buck.
Vin only smirked. He always knew that for all Ezra's bitching about the ‘great outdoors' that the Southerner probably was more at home there than he let on.
"And how exactly did he manage to get up a tree when I told you two to watch him?"
"Now, Chris-" started Nathan.
"Yes?"
Josiah looked at Nathan. Nathan looked at Josiah. Josiah shrugged.
Chris heaved a sigh. "Okay. How do we get him down?"
"Oh, just let him stay up there," said Vin. "He ain't hurting anything."
Chris shook his head in resignation and they all went to the bench and got comfortable. It might be a long wait.
Ezra was in a fog.
He didn't know how long he'd been in the fog. It seemed like forever. It was pretty nice as fogs go. It wasn't sick like a hangover and it wasn't hurtful like a concussion.
He was aware of the hospital building that was nearby. He didn't want to be there. Here seemed better. The tree was a nice addition to his fog. From here he could see the sky and the hospital grounds. People were walking by, but they couldn't see him in the branches. That was good.
His eyes were suddenly drawn to a woman with two children. A boy and a girl. They looked about seven and ten. He suddenly shrank back against the tree trunk. A child's voice, screaming in fear, filled his head and he shut his eyes against it. An overwhelming fear crashed over him. He kept his eyes shut until he was certain the children had passed by. He didn't want to see them again.
Fear soon turned to anger. A fractious anger. The kind that left him energized and bothered. This was surprising to him. He was never an emotional man. He learned long ago that emotions got in the way. If you let your emotions lead you, then you ended up in trouble. Or in pain.
His eyes opened again to look over the grounds again. Some way in the distance was what looked like a basket ball court on pavement. There were a few benches near the court and a smaller concrete area with a balance beam and a punching bag made of rubberized canvas that hung from a T-shaped wood pole.
No one was there.
He was angry. Furious. He really wanted to punch something. Hard.
He was also aware of his teammates. They were on the edge of his fog. He felt them but didn't really look at them. He really needed to get away from them. They would want to ‘talk' and he really didn't want that right now. He wasn't really sure what he would need to talk about. The fog was really heavy, blocking out everything but right now and the anger.
He stood up on the branch he had been sitting on. He carefully chose his way back down.
The only reaction to his sudden appearance on the ground was a slight flinching from Team 7. They were, after all, a veteran team used to many situations. A man jumping from a tree would not startle them too much.
Ezra strode away from the tree without looking at them. All he could see was the punching bag. ‘Get to the bag, quick.' That mantra repeated itself over and over in his head as he moved faster and faster. ‘Don't hit anyone, just the bag.'
By the time Chris and the team arrived at the concrete area, Ezra had moved in on the punching bag with a vengeance.
They were shocked as they watched a violence that they didn't know had resided in their friend rip forth from his body and into the bag.
He was losing it. He was so damn angry. Why? Why was he angry? The anger was burning away his nice fog. He knew it and couldn't stop it. He didn't want to know why he was so angry.
Images flooded his head. Sounds that echoed. Screams of fear and agony. They weren't his, it was someone else. Someones. More than one. A deep voice whispering in his ear. The weight of the handcuffs on his arms and legs. A tough, hot fabric covering his body making it hard to breathe or move. Names flashed. He had never met them before, but he knew their names.
He stopped his rage against the bag and stood still, his head cocked to the side and his eyes closed. The names brought faces-
And for the first time since he was found in that dark room, he made a sound.
His teammates instinctively moved closer together in a group at the noise that came from the 5' 10" compact frame of the Southerner.
It was the sound of a wildcat being mauled by a pack of wolves. The sound of a soul being torn apart in Hell.
It was followed closely by the sound of wood splintering as the Southerner attacked the punching bag, pushing it back into the T-shaped pole. The pole gave way about two feet from the concrete and toppled over and hit the ground with a hollow thud.
Then there was silence. No one moved.
Chris was broken from his horror by a low voice that steadily grew louder.
"Noo, no, no, no, no." Ezra chanted as his knees gave way and he sat hard on the concrete. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands pressed to his chest over his heart as if to stop a deep pain. He was rocking forward and back, leaning over his legs.
"JD, go get the doctor!" yelled Chris as he charged forward. "Josiah, grab him! Get him back from that pole."
JD raced away, his sneakers flashing as he went back into the hospital at a dead run. Josiah and Buck leaped forward and each grabbed an arm and dragged the distraught man away from the destruction he had created. Chris knelt down in front of him and placed his hands on his shoulders to stop the rocking.
"Ezra? Come on, Ezra, open your eyes. Say something."
Eyes popped open. Chris flinched back as if slapped. Ezra's soul was in his eyes. His muttering tapered off as he looked into his leader's ice blue gaze.
Silence once again fell over the group.
Ezra didn't say another word as Josiah and Buck leaned in close to offer support. Not a sound as Chris lightly gripped his shoulders. Nothing as Nathan and Vin crouched down beside Chris to look intently into Ezra's face.
Then he was gone again. The eyes became glazed again with his fog. His nice peaceful fog.
JD, the doctor and a nurse found them all sitting on the ground. The doctor immediately ordered a sedative after looking at the shattered pole. The nurse stepped in with a pre filled needle and then he was lifted gently into a wheelchair. He was back in his room and sleeping within ten minutes.
"Geez," said Buck running a hand over his face. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know, but I want to find out. Nathan, stay here with Ezra. The rest of us are going to pay a visit to where they found him. The police looked over the area, but I want us to give it a going over as well." Chris Larabee took one more look at Ezra's slack face and then led his team out the door.
Nathan settled in for a long wait.
The room in the building next to the vacant lot was just as the police left it.
There was a chair with rough gouges in the metal from where the handcuffs had rubbed. In the center of the bleak room was a fairly large metal table that was empty. Overhead was a bare bulb light with a draw cord to turn it on and off. The walls were cement block and the floor was rough poured concrete. There was a grate in the ceiling for air and a grate in the floor for heat.
There was nothing else.
No pictures, no windows, no wallpaper, no carpet. It was as bare as any cell in any prison.
Next to the room was a small bathroom with a sink, a tub and a toilet. No mirror. No window.
"Anything," asked Chris. They had been there over an hour looking at the bare rooms.
"Nah," replied Vin. "Just a room. No blood, no personal things of whoever was here."
Buck and JD went through the rest of the building to see if anyone was around that might have seen anything. The place was empty. A slightly run down, abandoned building in a bad part of the city. Just rats, cats and a few bats.
Josiah came up from his part of the room. "Maybe we should talk to the police. Find out how they knew to find Ezra here. Take a look at the crime scene photos and look at the reports."
"Ok, Josiah. But I also want someone on Depaula's people. It's mighty convenient for him that Ezra gets taken so close to trial time. I want to know who's been talking to. Who and where."
The team nodded. Buck and JD split off from the others at the police station. They were going back to the office to look up the Depaula connection.
They all met back in their offices at almost midnight. The team trailed wearily into the conference room and dropped into the chairs. Folders were passed around and reports were read.
"I just don't get it. What happened? There's nothing in the photos. Just Ezra in a chair," said JD in exasperation. "Why is he so ... so off?"
"Torture?" queried Josiah.
"Nah, you saw him. Not a mark on him except for his wrists," replied Buck.
"At least, nothing physical." Chris looked around the table. "But even then, he's cool under pressure. I can't see him getting like this over some rough talk from the bad guys. Has to be something else."
"Yeah, no one can out talk our boy Ezra," grinned Vin. "Has to be something else."
"How about Depaula?"
Buck shook his head. "His boys are up to the usual things. In and out of the clubs. A few meetings on the wrong side of town."
"They been in contact with him from jail?"
"Don't know. Doesn't look like it. He's had a few visitors. Nothing that rings any bells.
Chris took a look at the list of visitors. Barbara Cummings (girlfriend), Simon Phillips (lawyer), and a man by the name of Cagney Quinn Peyton.
"Who's this Cagney Peyton?"
"Don't know. Only came in once. Said he had some papers from the lawyer that needed to be signed by Depaula. Met with him under guard. Guard said all he did was give Depaula the papers to be signed and then left. Didn't even talk to him."
"What about the girlfriend?"
"Unless talking about the weather is code for ‘kidnap the witness' we don't have a thing on her. The guard says that's all they talked about."
"Lawyer?"
Buck gave a grim smile. "Sorry. No guard allowed. Lawyer/client privilege."
"Damn." Chris sat back in his chair.
Josiah, Vin and Chris had gone over the police reports at the station. The only thing that they could learn from the reports is that the police had gotten a phone call from a deep voiced male saying that a man was cuffed to a chair and then gave an address. The phone was disconnected before they could question the man or trace the call. There wasn't even a recording of the man's voice.
"Whoever called wanted him to be found," murmured Josiah.
"Why?" asked JD. "What would they gain? Why didn't they just kill him?"
"Well find that out when we find out who did it," growled Larabee. "We need to get Ezra talking."
Nathan sat at the hospital waiting for the mercurial agent to wake up from his drugged sleep. Nathan was confused. He usually was when it came to this particular team member. Ezra could be slippery to get a handle on. One minute cool and collected. The next laughing and joking. But what he saw today had blown him away.
Ezra had never been violent or destructive.
Sure, he had a little temper. Especially with Chris. Those two could butt heads over just about anything. Drove Chris crazy. But never violent. He would take what you threw at him and shrug it off like a warm breeze. Those green eyes could stare at you with not one emotion to give him away.
He could take down a suspect as calm as walking to Sunday School. He could shoot a gunrunner as easy as scrapping mud off his custom made shoes. No emotions what so ever.
But today was different. Today an emotion so deep and terrible came to the surface and exploded like a nuclear bomb. That wood pole had snapped like a twig in a storm. Nathan could only shake his head at the strength a man would need to snap a pole that size.
Who knew that the wouldn't-lift-his-hand-for-manual-labor, used-to-the-finer-things-in-life little bastard could do that?
Food for thought for the next time Nathan decided to come down on the Southerner for his lack of moral behavior.
Ezra shifted on the bed causing Nathan to sit up straighter. Ezra settled back down and Nathan resumed his slump. It was going to be a long night.
Two days passed. No leads, no clues. Ezra stayed in a semi-aware state and never went far from his room at the hospital. There were no more trips outside to the recreational area. The cost of repairing the pole was tacked onto Ezra's medical bill.
Meanwhile, time was running out. The trial was hard upon them. The lawyer was having a hissy fit to go over the case with his star witness. In the end he was forced to go over the last minute details using Ezra's previous statements and reports. He was not a happy lawyer.
Ezra was in his fog again. Good fog. No pain here. No pain. No memories.
But something pulled at his mind. What was it? Time. Time was ticking. For what? Tick, tick, tick, tick. Time was slipping away. Someone wanted it to slip away. A deep voice saying to let it go. Go into the fog. Coward.
Shock.
Coward?
'I'm not a coward!'
'No, then remember the names. Remember the time. Remember the man.'
His attention turned to his outer self. He could hear voices. He knew who they were. Team 7. His team.
Go away.
I've got things to do. Things to remember.
Chris ran a desperate hand through his hair. Hours of talking to Ezra and not even an eyelash moved to show that he heard them. He would stare either at the wall or out the window.
The doctor came in with his nurse. The nurse put a needle to Ezra's arm. Chris got up from his chair. "No more of that!"
The doctor looked up at Chris. "Mr. Larabee, he's violent-"
"Shut up! He's been like this for two days now. How's he going to get better if you keep doping him up!"
"Mr. Lar-"
"Get out of this room right now or I'll do something that you will regret."
"He needs this sedative!" rushed the doctor to finish a sentence without being interrupted.
Larabee's whole face darkened and his eyes narrowed. "You've had him for two days and a half. All you do is dope him up and leave him in the bed. How is that going to help him?"
"But-"
"Out!" bellowed Chris Larabee.
The doctor got out. The nurse scuttled out right behind him.
Chris turned to the others. "We're leaving. He's coming with us. Vin, Buck, get him ready. JD, pack up his stuff. Josiah, go get my truck," he threw Josiah his keys. "Nathan, go down to the desk and get him discharged. I'm calling the Judge to make sure no one decides to stop us."
They hurried about to get Ezra ready. He was shoved into the small connecting bathroom and into the shower. Vin got out Ezra's electric razor and gave him a shave. Buck, second only after Ezra for taking the longest in doing his hair in the mornings, combed his hair into a good simulation on Ezra's usual style. He was pushed into a pair of blue jeans, a dark blue T-shirt and a pair of brand new Nike's. They hadn't been able to find a pair of causal shoes at his place.
They then hustled him out of the hospital, picking up Nathan at the main desk with the discharge papers and meet Josiah at the curb with the truck.
"Okay, get him in. I'm taking him to the scene-"
"Chris, I don't know if that's a good idea-" started Nathan.
"What else can we do? He's not talking. The doctors aren't helping him. We've talked ourselves blue in the face. This is it. The case is in a day and a half."
"Is the case more important than his health?" asked Nathan. A frown crossed his dark features.
"No, dammit!" Chris threw up his hands in frustration. "But look at him! You want him to be like this?"
Nathan backed down. "No."
Chris turned away and moved to the driver side of his truck as Josiah and Buck pushed Ezra into the passenger side. "JD, Buck, go get some recording equipment. And enough mics for everyone. I want everything he says, everything we say on tape. We might get something out of this and I don't to miss it."
Names, names, names.
'Ah'm good with names. Alias'. Agents on other teams. Police off'cers at the scene of the crime. Children. Children?'
What children?
What police off'cers?
An image formed. A dark room. A single light bulb on the ceiling. A pool of light on a table. A knife. Blood on plastic.
'Mah blood?'
He froze in the seat of Chris' truck. He didn't even breathe.
A scream in his head.
'No, not mah blood! Oh, God, Ah remember!'
Chris was sitting in the truck with Ezra, waiting for the others to arrive in their own cars. He hoped JD got here first. He needed Ezra hooked up the recording equipment.
A sudden gasp brought his head around to look at Ezra. He flung out an arm to pin the smaller agent to the back of the seat when Ezra tried to lean forward and clutched his stomach. Chris could see sweat pop out on Ezra's forehead.
"Oh, hell!" Chris threw open his door and dragged the Southerner out the driver's side door. He had barely gotten out the truck when his agent dumped his stomach contents onto the pavement. Chris could feel the tremors that racked the smaller man.
Luckily, none of the mess landed on Ezra or Chris. He leaned the ill man against the side of the truck and reached into the cab to retrieve a half-finished Pepsi and some napkins from the glove compartment. With a little prompting he got Ezra to wash his mouth out with the Pepsi and then take a small sip. He wetted the napkins with the Pepsi and wiped Ezra's chin. He threw the fouled Pepsi and the napkins into the bed of his truck. He'd get them out later at home. He then moved Ezra to the other side of the truck, out of sight of the sickening stuff.
When JD arrived Ezra was still slightly bent over clutching his stomach with Chris hovering nearby.
"JD, get over here and mic him up!"
JD slapped the mic on Ezra's T-shirt pocket and then hooked up Chris. He had already put his on at the office. He then rushed into the building and quickly set up the equipment after finding one electrical socket in the ceiling near the base of the bare bulb light.
"JD?"
"We're ready. I'll mic up the others as they walk in the door."
Chris could hear cars skidding up as he took Ezra's arm and pulled him into the room. He stumbled and Chris dragged him upright and continued in until they were standing at the chair.
Then he stepped back and waited.
In a few second the others were in the room. They all stopped by Chris and JD.
Ezra stood forlorn for a moment. He completely ignored the chair. His green eyes were on the metal table. He took his right hand from his stomach and then held it out in front of him as he staggered forward until it was on the edge of the table. He slowly slid it to the middle and spread his fingers out. He leaned on his hand until he was bent at the waist, his head level with his elbow. He stayed that way for almost five minutes.
"Ah knew their names."
The team jumped at the sudden sound of the Southerner's hushed tenor voice.
"Who's names, Ezra?" asked Chris quietly.
"Did you find them? God, Ah hope so. They shouldn't be here." He dragged in a deep breath. "He made them talk to me. Tell me their names. Made me watch." His voice cracked and he shuddered. He slowly pulled his hand away from the middle of the table and walked backwards until he was beside the chair again. He looked down at the chair and then lowered himself into it.
"Can you tell us the names?" asked Chris again.
"Ah was reading mah book that morning, waitin' for coffee. Poe. There was a knock at the door." He turned in his seat as if to look at his door at home. "Who? It was early. Ah got mah gun and went to the door. It was him. Can bygones be bygones? Ah shouldn't have let him in. Ah knew." He shook his head. "It was over quick. A needle and a prick. Drugged. Ah woke up here. In Hell."
He fell silent again and once again stared at the table.
"Ezra. Ezra, can you tell us the names?" Chris raised his voice a little louder.
"Susan Daye, Micky Reid, Nicole-Ann Little. Ah remember. He knew Ah would." He slowly raised his right hand and pressed it against his right temple. "Ah can't forget. He knew that Ah wouldn't forget. Blessed with a photographic memory. Good for field work. Don't need to write down information where it can be found. Won't blow your cover."
Chris turned to Nathan. "Photographic memory? I didn't know he had that."
"It's not in any records we have on him. But you know him, he's full of secrets."
"You did find them, didn't you? They shouldn't be here anymore."
"Find who, Ezra?"
Ezra turned his head to face Chris' voice. He cocked his head and squinted his eyes. "The children. Did you find the children?"
The other six men went cold.
"Children," gasped out JD. "Those were the names of children?"
Ezra gasped and fell against the back of the metal chair. "Not found?" He struggled up and frantically moved to the part of the floor with the heating grate. His fingers probed the grate and soon had the grate cover off.
"You see, this was loose. He'd been preparing this for a long time. There's a holding cell down there. He ripped out the duct and dug into the soil." With his left hand on the side of the opening he leaned in until his head and right shoulder were out of sight. His voice had a weird echo as he continued. "Yes, still here." Ezra pulled himself back out of the hole and sat heavily on the floor.
Chris made a move for the opening and Ezra suddenly flung his right hand over it protectively. "Sush, it's okay now, Ezra. We'll get them out. We'll get them back with their families."
Ezra looked up at him with suspicion. "Shoulda been found earlier."
Chris just nodded. "Josiah, call the police and get a crew down here to take out the bodies and whatever else that might be down there."
"He wanted me to know their names. He had them tell me. And ... after ... Ah held them as they died."
"What!"
Ezra nodded absently to himself. "Yes, Ah held them. Ah couldn't feel them through the suit. He didn't want their blood to get on me. But Ah could feel their souls leaving their bodies as Ah looked them in the eye." He shivered and wrapped his arms around his middle. "He said he wanted me to be as 'pristine' as the day Ah was born. Ah was always right and he was always wrong."
Chris ran a hand over his face. This was getting out of control. His agent was in laa-laa land and rambling out of his head. He needed some cold facts to get this over with. "Who took you, Ezra? Who killed the children?"
"A small man, green eyes, about 5'10", brown hair." Ezra shuddered again. "A southern accent."
Nathan shook his head. "No, you're getting confused, Ezra. You're describing yourself."
Ezra looked up. "No, Ah didn't kill them. Ah just watched and did nothing."
"Not much to go on, but it will have to do," murmured Chris. "JD, Buck, get that on the wire. See if we can get lucky and pick this fruitcake up."
He turned back to Ezra who was still on the floor. "Ezra, this might be hard, but I need you to tell us everything that happened here."
Ezra sighed. "No harder than living it." He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. "It started when Ah was dragged in and put into a Haz-Mat suit and handcuffed to the chair. He waited long enough to put on his own suit and throw down heavy plastic on the table and floor and for the drugs to wear off. The hell began." He squeezed himself into a tight ball around his middle. "The first one he brought to me was Susan Daye ... he had a knife a-and h-h-he t-tied her to the t-table ... "
By the time Ezra had finished his story, JD, Buck and Nathan had to leave the room to puke their guts out. Vin looked green and Josiah was quietly muttering a prayer. Chris looked ready to kill.
"Why?" demanded Chris. "Why did he do this?"
Ezra looked up. "He knows how Ah feel about children. He knew it would kill me to see them die such excruciating deaths and not be able to stop it. He knew mah mind would never let me forget." He shut his eyes so hard that the lids curled back on themselves. "He wanted a shutdown. And that's exactly what Ah did. By the death of the last one Ah was in a fog."
Josiah knelt down close and laid a hand on his brown hair. "Son, anyone would have shut down in this situation. There was nothing you could do to stop this."
Ezra shook his head, loosening Josiah's hand. "Ah could have stopped it if Ah was never born."
Chris also keeled down on the floor. "Did he tell you his name? Did he tell you why he was doing all of this?"
Ezra closed his eyes and swallowed. "His name used to be Konrad Simpson, but Ah doubt that he still uses it. As to why he concocted this whole scenario, he did mention my upcoming testimony."
"The Depaula case?"
Ezra only nodded.
Josiah looked pensive. "You knew him from before?"
This time Ezra flinched. "Yes."
"And he came over to your place and said that he wanted 'bygones to be bygones'?"
A tear tracked down Ezra's cheek leaving a glint of silver in the light. "Ah thought ... Ah hoped- " His voice cracked and he tried to regain his composure. "He's never liked me. Blamed me for all his failures. He always said that Ah was always right and he was always wrong." He grew moody and shook his head again.
"Try hotels near the airport. He'll want to stay near his escape route. Also, look for last names that begin with the letter 'S' or 'P.'" His forehead puckered for a long moment. "And Ah believe the car he had me in was yellow. Yellow and smelled like smoke. He used to smoke about two packs a day ... back when Ah used to know him."
Chris gave him a searching look and then turned to snap off more orders to put that information into the works.
Josiah still hovered next to him. "Son, I think you need to come up off that floor now. Crime scene will be here soon to get the poor angels back to their homes."
Ezra was shaking his head as Josiah none-to-gently pulled him from the opening in the floor. He stumbling along beside the big man as he was led out into the lot and shoved back into Chris' truck. A moment later, Chris was in the driver's side and starting up the engine. After snapping off a few more orders to the remainder of the team, he slowly backed the truck out of the lot and shipped Ezra back to his house on Chaucer Street.
Ezra's house on Chaucer Street was a small stone structure with ivy-covered walls and old brick walkway and driveway. It looked like something that had just stepped out of the Olde English country side. There was even a rock fence with an old iron gate that topped off at a man's waist. The garage was at the side. It was empty since Ezra's car was still M.I.A.
Chris had always liked this part of the city. It was a part where the city hustle and bustle met the old time green lawns of family oriented neighborhoods that had thrived in the 40's and 50's.
Chris helped the dazed man into his home and into his bedroom with the large king size bed. He only did the basics to get the Southerner comfortable before shutting off the light and closing the bedroom door. He went to the living room and sat on the butter-soft sofa and picked up Ezra's cordless phone. It only took him a minute to inform Buck that he was staying at Ezra's to which Buck immediately insisted on coming over as well.
By the time there was a soft knocking at the door, all five team members were in the doorway.
"Buck, I said only two of us needed to stay," growled Larabee.
Buck looked red-faced. "Yeah, but I told JD not to wait up for me and then he wanted to know why I wasn't going to be home. And then he wanted to come. And then he called Vin, who called Nathan, who called Josiah ... "
Chris held up his hands as if to push the explanation away from his body. "OK, but be quiet. He still looks a little shocky to me. He needs his sleep."
The other quietly bustled into the living room. JD and Buck took the spare bedroom and Chris took the sofa in the living room. Vin grabbed a couple of blankets and slept on the living room floor. Nathan took the recliner that matched the sofa and Josiah wandered off into the den that served as Ezra's home office. It had a nice big couch with a royal blue afghan thrown across its back.
They were all light sleepers. If anyone was a heavy sleeper, it was Ezra, which was why it was startling to Chris when he woke at 3:00 a.m. feeling like he was being watched. He looked up to see Ezra perched on the coffee table staring at him. How he had gotten by Vin and Nathan, he wasn't sure.
"You ok, Ezra?" he whispered.
All he got in reply was a raised shoulder.
Chris sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes and then looked closer at the man in the dim light.
"Nightmares?" Well, it was a logical guess considering what his agent had been through.
Again, the raised shoulder.
Hmm, what to do? Chris blinked as he thought. He then smiled as he thought of his dead son. How many times had his son come into his parents' room and stared at his parents when all he really wanted was to not be alone with his nightmares?
"Want to keep me company?" he asked softy as he patted the sofa cushion.
Ezra looked at him with a cocked head for a moment and then nodded. He slowly transferred himself from the coffee table to the sofa. Chris helped him settle on the left-hand arm of the sofa and then went back to pillow his head on the right-hand arm. They were both curled up on their sides with their feet pressed flat against the back of the sofa, their knees barely brushed in the middle.
Ezra sighed and then went straight back to sleep. Chris quietly chuckled and quickly followed him.
Chris again woke to the feeling of being watched but noticed that this time he could see light through his eyelids. He opened them to see Vin, Nathan, JD, Buck and Josiah all in various poses staring at him and Ezra on the sofa.
"What?" he managed to whisper out.
Buck raised an eyebrow. "How'd he get in here?"
Chris raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, ask the mighty tracker over there. He had to've stepped right over him to get to me."
Vin shrugged. "I didn't hear a thing."
"You going to call the lawyer and tell him Ezra's back in the land of the living?" asked Nathan.
Chris raised up his head and looked at Ezra as he slept. "No. He's going to stay right there and sleep until his time to be called as a witness."
"He's not going to be happy with you, boss. That lawyer was spitting nails when you wouldn't let him near Ezra," warned Buck.
"He can shit his pants for all I care. Ezra's staying right here until he gets some sleep."
The day of the trail was here.
Everyone scattered to get ready for their appearance in court. Well, actually, only Ezra, JD and Chris had to testify, but everyone was going to this one.
They allowed Ezra his privacy for the first time since they found him and he came out of his bedroom freshly groomed with a dark navy suit, white shirt and navy tie on that fit like it was specially made for him. And maybe it was, you never could tell with Ezra and his wardrobe.
He was quiet on his way to the courthouse. Josiah sat by him and kept a hand on Ezra's right hand the whole way there. He could feel the slight tremors that were emanating from the undercover agent.
"You'll do fine, Ezra. And we'll all be there to back you up," soothed Josiah.
"Damn straight," replied Buck.
Their part in the trail was over quick enough. Chris testified as to how the operation was set up, JD testified to the contents of the various tapes he had recorded during the Depaula meeting with the ATF, and Ezra testified as to what he personally witnessed when inside the Depaula gang.
None of the agents with Ezra failed to notice how Depaula had gone white when Ezra was led into the court room. That white quickly turned to red as Depaula leaned over and let his lawyer have it in the ear.
"Depaula don't look none too happy to see Ezra," drawled Vin.
Chris just shook his head. "I want that lawyer watched. He's the only one that didn't have a guard with him when he talked to Depaula. He has to be the one that got word to Depaula's gang about Ezra."
So an unofficial tail was put on Simon Phillips. He couldn't take a pee without Team 7 knowing about it.
Phillips went to several of Depaula's clubs and could be seen arguing with some of the top lieutenants in the organization.
"Wish we could get a mic on him," said JD.
"Nah, can't do that, Kid. Would be against the law with no permission from a judge," replied Buck.
They followed Simon Phillips for three days with nothing more exciting than the club trips and trips to his law office.
Until the fourth day.
Phillips left his law office and went straight to a small motel about a mile from the airport.
Chris sat up suddenly. "Didn't Ezra say the perp would hold up in a motel near the airport? Close to escape?"
"Yep," answered Vin.
"I'm beginning to think that Mr. Phillips knows who kidnaped Ezra because he's the one that hired him."
"Yep," agreed Vin.
"And I bet if we take a look at the motel register there'll be a name that begins with a 'P' or 'S' that's been registered for the last two weeks or so."
"Yep," concurred Vin.
Chris turned to Vin in the truck. "You know any other words other than 'Yep'.
Vin grinned as he pulled out his phone to call the others in. "Yep."
They hit the motel ten minutes later. Phillips' car was still in the parking lot by a yellow mustang. Chris and Buck rushed the registration desk in front and demanded the book. They skimmed over the entries until they found a man by the name of C. Q. Peyton.
Chris gasped and looked up at Buck. "The man that visited Depaula in prison with the papers. That's how he made contact with Depaula."
"Yeah, and his damn lawyer set it up," spat Buck.
They quickly rattled the room number out of the desk clerk, picked up the rest of the team and raced up to the second level of the motel. When they busted down the door, they found the room empty of everything but Phillips. And he was a bloody mess.
Chris bent down over the lawyer. "What happened Phillips?"
The man was gasping for breath, a hole in his chest that was sucking in its own air, and froth coming from his mouth. He didn't have long to live. Nathan put in a call for the ambulance and then tried to do what he could for the man.
"Depaula needed a hit man ... he's one of the best ... we agreed ... half before ... half after the job was done. He got in to see Depaula ... and the deal was signed ... only ... the witness showed up at the trial ... Depaula was pissed ... wanted the first of his money back ... only when I got here ... the man wanted the second half that was due ... he was upset that I didn't have it ... ," Phillips looked down at his chest. "Real upset ... said Depaula was going to pay."
JD had been at the window over looking the parking lot. "Chris, that yellow mustang is on the move!"
"Christ! Nathan, stay here with Phillips until the ambulance gets here. The rest of us need to catch Peyton before he gets out of town."
They all rushed to their vehicles. In midtown the traffic got heavy and they lost him.
Buck beat the dashboard in anger. "How the hell can we lose a yellow mustang!"
"Calm down, Buck," said Josiah. "Phillips said that Peyton wanted Depaula to pay. He probably went to one of his clubs to get his money."
They checked out all three of Depaula's clubs. They found the yellow mustang at the last one. 'Josiah, call the police for back up. I don't want him getting away this time. Everyone fan out and see if you can spot him."
The man was surprisingly easy to pick out in the crowd. He was exactly as Ezra had described him. His resemblance to Ezra was uncanny. When they reached him, they identify themselves as federal agents and then slammed him to the floor.
"My, my, gentlemen. Is there a problem here? Ah don't believe Ah've ever made your acquaintance."
"Shut the hell up before you end up in the hospital instead of the police station you bastard," ground out Chris.
Josiah and Buck quickly got the man away from Chris before he did him bodily harm. The man was dragged outside and shoved into a police car to be taken to the station for booking. Josiah filled in the detective on the scene as to the charges that should be brought against the man.
"Now, what do we do about Ezra?" asked JD. "Isn't he going to have to go down and identify that man?"
No one answered him.
Copies of the tapes that JD had gotten of Ezra's rendition of the horrifying events of the four days he was missing were turned over to the police and the prosecutors. The whole station was grim when Larabee and his team hustled Ezra into the interview observation room that would allow him to identify the man without the lined up men seeing him. The regular line up room was being remodeled due to a suspect punching a fist through several places in the wall and shattering the mirror.
Ezra was almost in his fog again. He had allowed the fog to be pushed away so he could focus on the Depaula trial, but now, facing the man who had killed those three children in front of his eyes was tearing his soul.
He felt a hand on him and looked over to see Chris' hand on his left shoulder. The fog lifted slightly. His friends were here with him this time. He turned his gaze back to the window and listened to the inside guards as they told the men to hold their numbers up.
He looked through the observation window and had no difficulty in identifying the man that had held him for four days.
"Numba three."
"Are you sure," asked the prosecutor.
"Ah'm sure."
The outside guard told the inside guards to let everyone go but number three.
Larabee and his men were turning away when the voice came back over the intercom system. It was in a foreign language and it was coming from number three.
Josiah came over by Ezra and also gripped a shoulder. "Anyone know what language that is?"
The officers and personnel all shook their heads 'no'. Josiah himself knew a couple of languages, but couldn't identify this one.
The inside guards hustled the furious man away.
Larabee and Josiah steered Ezra out of the station. Outside he pulled away from their grip and leaned on Larabee's truck with the flats of his hands on the hood. His head was hung low. He breathed in deeply and steadily.
"Are you going to be able to testify?" asked Chris.
Ezra nodded. "Ah have to. If Ah don't and he gets out, he'll kill me next time."
"Why didn't he kill you this time? He had a contract from Depaula."
Ezra snorted and turned around and leaned his rump on the car and folded his arms around his chest. "That was just an excuse to get his hands on some money. He'd of done me for free."
Josiah leaned on the hood next to him. "You knew what he was yelling, didn't you. What language was that?"
Ezra thought over his answer for a moment. They had already found out two of his closely guarded secrets — his strength and his photographic memory. Dare he tell them more? He looked up when Josiah put a hand to the back of his neck and gently squeezed.
"Yes. He taught it to me when Ah was very little. Said it would come in useful if someone taped our phone or bugged our place."
Chris got a cold feeling in his chest. "Your place? You lived together?"
Ezra's heart clenched. "Yes, he is my Fathah."
"A father doing this to his own son?" asked Josiah in a hushed baritone. "Oh, Ezra." He reached over and crushed Ezra to him in a hard hug. He brushed Ezra's hair with his left hand.
"He tried to teach me his trade, but Ah got scared and told mah Mothah. She was furious and told him that it was wrong. That Ah wasn't going to grow up to kill for money. She packed us up and moved by the end of the day. Ah only saw him three times after that. He hated me for Mothah's leaving. He blamed me. This all was to teach me a lesson. To destroy mah mind and ravage mah soul. He didn't give a damn about Depaula or his case. He just wanted revenge on me. He'd of come back later and finished the job, Ah'm sure."
JD was stricken. "So you had to chose between growing up to be a hit man and growing up to be a con?"
Ezra pushed himself away from Josiah and laughed a little. "Ah guess you could say that. For all Mothah's outrage at killing for money, she nevah had a problem with conning for it."
He sat quietly all the way back to his house. He said nothing when the others showed up with overnight bags to stay the next two nights with him. In a way he was glad. Sometimes it was a chore to answer the door. That was the way this whole mess started was just simply answering the door in the early morning light.
"You all right now, Ezra?" asked JD as they all settled down to watch a movie at 11:00 at night.
Ezra was bundled up between Vin and Buck on the sofa. Nathan and Josiah were on the floor with pillows propping up their backs. Chris was in the recliner and JD was leaning against the coffee table with a stolen afghan.
"No, not right now JD. Maybe after Fathah's trial or maybe next year. But don't worry, Ah'll be all right one day. Ah've got my friends to help me."
The End
January 27, 2003
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